Have and Have Not
by tore-my-yellow-dress
Summary: "I forgive you," he speaks into her skin. "You look at me like that and it's all over for me." Post 5x12.


**A/N- This one is dedicated to Steffi and Tiff all at the same time because Tiff is getting her angst and Steffi is getting her fluff. Hope you guys enjoy! Honestly not sure how I feel about this, but it begged to be written! :)**

* * *

She's digging her manicure into her palms with so much bite she nearly breaks skin.

All she can see is red and white of the falling snow that had started earlier, before the world stopped turning and began again, back when she was leaving the courthouse and she saw Will's compassion and his rough jawline and all she could think about was giving solace to her weak knees and telling him she was sorry, how much she missed him.

It began then, soft, sprinkling.

The streets are covered, now.

The parking garage is empty, and she knows she needs a thicker coat, to cover up, needs a trash bag for a heart. Something to dispose of with every soil, something to throw away and give to the dumpster of lies and deceit and _how could he. _Alicia sinks her heels into what little precipitation that's traveled with the howling wind. She inhales the cold air and lets it muss her hair.

Feels like a wild dog, biting for decency. She's sauntering into the lobby, past the night watchmen and his normal life, mashing the button for up.

There's something starting in her soul, charring it wild and bloodthirsty.

She imagines the wife she once was, with her house in Highland Park and her shrubs, and her façade and standing by like a pathetic puppet. She imagines taking a knife and butchering that skin. Tearing it away.

The climb of the elevator causes her pulse to thunder in her ears, going, going, she remembers the feeling of gone and goodbye what feels like a lifetime ago, remembers bowing her head and crying for all that's worthy, crying for hotel rooms and his touch and twenty years of missed chances, bad timing.

But she was wrong, then. Still being led around by the leash of guilt. The men in her life still haven't realized what they've caught in their fumbling hands. They underestimate her. She had thought it was just Peter, started with Amber Madison- but that's not, it's not just fucking anymore. She keeps getting fucked and if it happens again, she might combust from the pressure of plastic smiles. Alicia Florrick is through being used.

The doors open, and she bares her teeth.

The offices of Lockhart and Gardner are nearly pitch black. The roads are getting risky, and she should know better than to march into the building at ten at night, should know better than to think she knows him. Something within Alicia has been cut out. Frozen.

It's the sentiment that the man she thought was the bane of her existence, the unattainable, the heart sore lost love with his puppy dog eyes, is no such thing. She was wrong.

And it's killing her, as she darts in the direction of his office, her inhibitions left to fill the hallways.

Stripped of her forgiveness.

He's there.

He's there and there's a part of her that sees his strong shoulders leaned over papers, head bent- there's a part of her that wants so bad for it to be yesterday. Before Marilyn had to go and show her the end of her peace and honeymoon tucked within the time period of a video. Before Marilyn called her, later, so much later, to tell Alicia that Will Gardner was keeping all the secrets, and if she wanted it to go away she would convince her husband to allow the investigation, to waive privilege.

The phone had nearly cracked in her crushing, deadly grip.

Yes.

Alicia tears open the door and allows it to clunk against its glass counterpart.

Will's head shoots up, mouth parting.

"How _dare_ you."

The words tear from her throat, crawling out of her mouth, injected with enough venom to cripple any wayward vein of hope any of this would end well. Alicia is through being wounded silently.

Often times, when animals are hurt, they'll attack back with three times the force.

The instinct to survive outweighs the need to preserve.

"I couldn't figure it out. Who would even know of its existence? Who would feel the _need _to investigate such a matter? And then Marilyn called to inform me my husband's _lawyer _wasn't being forthcoming enough. And then it hit me. How could I be so _stupid?" _Alicia's face contorts in disgust, and she swallows heavily. She allows her eyes travel up his form. "I wasn't the only lawyer representing Peter."

Will pushes himself up from his desk, moving out from behind it. His nostrils flare sharply.

"You have a lot of nerve."

Alicia tastes something bitter and acidic, sour like the punch she could choke on. Her words come slowly as she puts the situation out on the table, laid out in sharp syllables. "And you knew. You let my son perjure himself and then you _used it _to get back at _me. _You lied to me-

"You lied to _me," _Will snarls suddenly, balling his hands into fists. "You lied to me and then stabbed me in the back and you don't even have the decency to-

"_Decency?" _Alicia shrieks right back, tumbling forward on the balls of her feet, closer, closer._ "_You son of a bitch, this is going to ruin _everything! _You hurt me and that's _fine_ but this is my kids! And for that matter, thank God! Thank God I left you because this was before I made that decision. Guess it's too bad I didn't get away _quick enough_."

Will's eyes went dull.

He wouldn't even dignify that with a response.

And suddenly it hit Alicia, the man she was talking to. Alicia could remember their last kiss. How his lips felt, melded to her own, the nip of the car's heater and the steamed windows. He had already, by then. He had already known by then that he was hurting her, poisoning it all. He didn't even tell her.

Now the memory was tainted. The blood of something beautiful all over her hands.

Alicia felt so old. So tired.

"Why, Will?" she murmurs, and her eyes shine in the dim light of his office. "Why did you keep it from me, Will? Why would you hurt me like that? I know we weren't together but I thought-

"I didn't send the tape. I swear to God I didn't send that tape, Alicia."

Will speaks lowly. Like a man holding onto the last thread of hope, hanging by a frayed rope.

"I kept it from you because I didn't want that to-" he breaks off, shoves his hands in his pockets and looks down, somewhere, anywhere else other than the woman standing in front of him.

"I didn't want you hurt. You'd been through so much, and I didn't want you to have to deal with any other _complications. _And it killed me, Alicia."

Finally, he meets her eyes. They glisten with unhinged emotion, chocolate and vulnerable.

"Because not telling meant Peter was going to win and you weren't going to leave him. And I let you go. I let you _go. _I cared for your wellbeing enough to- pathetic on my part, but that night, I kept waiting for you to call, even though I knew it was a long shot. A part of me kept _hoping_ the governorship wouldn't matter, that what we had would supercede expectations, it would mean _something_ and…"

Alicia's eyes are wide like saucers, and she's grasping her purse numbly, thumb on the tassels.

"Will?" she mouths, and it's barely audible.

Will's gaze scurries away again, and the next thing he says is spoken with far more conviction, like a confession. There's faint traces of anger in his words.

"But you didn't even give a second thought, did you? All I could think about was you and then you couldn't even spare me the benefit of a _conversation. _Did I really mean so little to you?_"_

Will starts to shake his head. "Don't answer that."

Alicia drops her purse to the floor, and she watches Will's eyes follow it. While he's distracted she closes the distance. The truth is, she doesn't know what she's doing anymore. She feels like wash rag rung free, spent of anything that resembles tact. His body radiates heat, and she inhales his spicy scent.

There's a sob caught in her throat, because she's hurt him, she's hurt him and he doesn't even _realize-_

"Alicia," he says her name, something like a warning.

She reaches her hands up to rest them against the back of his neck. He doesn't pull away from her. He barely even moves. Their breathing is synchronized, breasts pushed into his chest, and his skin is hot beneath her nimble fingertips. She feels so cold, aching to the bone.

She's craved him so much.

Without hesitation, she leans in slowly until her lips are rested against his ear. This is the only thing that evokes a response out of him; a short convulsion runs throughout his torso.

"This is so wrong," she whispers in his ear.

The tension is pulled so taught, it nearly suffocates. Alicia's studying the freckle at the base of his neck and a part of her wants to memorize its image until it's all she remembers at night, and the other half, the other is longing to flick her tongue out and lap at it. Taste his skin.

She quells the urges fiercely.

"Wanna know a secret?"

Will isn't quite sure what's going on, why she's holding him so tightly, but he's afraid he's going to open his eyes and it's all going to be a dream, that he's going to be alone in his office and she is going to be dead to his soul, that anger will still penetrate and they'll be nothing but darkness. Even now, as bumbling as the direction is, a sliver of light is a corona in her eyes. Latching.

"This is wrong, but _nothing _has ever felt so right."

A tear slips down her cheek, falls upon his timid shoulder. Stains the suit jacket he's wearing.

Will brushes his thumb across her cheekbone, gentle, like she's glass. She's so beautiful, with her pale skin, with her expressive eyes. "Will," she whimpers, but he stops her from saying anything else.

Will kisses her.

Threads his fingers through her hair just as she has his, at the nape of his neck, and delves his tongue deep into her mouth. When that's not enough he runs his hands down her back, stops at her lower spine and pulls her closer, as close as they can get. She's got one of her legs between his, and she's kissing him back with equal ferocity. Like they'll die if they don't get enough.

When they come up gasping for air, her arms wrapped around his waist and his near lifting her up, she stops completely. Will watches the realization hit her, what she's doing, what she's done.

Will hates that she looks like she's about to cry. Will hates that.

"Alicia, please, don't-

"No," her voice cracks. "No, it's not that I'm-

"Alicia, please-

"Will, let me talk," she growls out between gritted teeth.

He closes his mouth, purses his lips that are smeared with her lipstick.

Alicia takes a moment to regain her senses, but when she does, it feels like a thousand pounds on her chest, on her shoulders. She exhales shakily. They still won't let go of one another. Alicia doesn't know if she could stand it if he was any farther away from her than he already is, clothes and such. Alicia doesn't know if she could stand it. "This is why I left," she tells him choppily, cheeks sallow. "Because it's going to be worse than last time, it _is. _Because you're going to mean even_ more_ to me. And I won't be able to deal with it if you- _see, _it's going to be too much, and you-

"Alicia," he regards her honestly. "You hurt me," matter of fact.

She stops trying to postulate a proper response. Her lip quivers. "_Will, _I know. I know and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Can you forgive me? Is it possible you'll ever for-

"Shh," he soothes her, brushing her hair back from her forehead. "Shh."

He kisses her on the side of the mouth, and Alicia pulls him tighter against her.

"I forgive you," he speaks into her skin. "You look at me like that and it's all over for me."

The humor is dry. They both know there's a part of it that's blunt and truth. "But that's not what I meant, baby."

The pet name slips easily from his tongue, careless, and Alicia feels a ghost of a smile across her face, her throat tight. It's been so long since he's called her that. Two years, at least.

"I know," she murmurs, shaking her head slightly. "But I did hurt you because I was…afraid." She says the word like it's dirty, and he knows where she's coming from. Weakness is vines that strangle, roots from the same tree- they're so much alike. It's one of the reasons they match so well.

"We can't keep hurting each other," she moans, moving to bury her face in the crook of his neck.

He holds her like that, stroking her hair, the strands smooth and pleasant smelling. He inhales the aroma deeply. Presses another kiss there.

"I'm tired of being angry at you," he admits. And he won't tell her, but he hated himself when she looked at him, what was it, forty eight hours prior- with her eyes downcast and her words playing it out to the judge. He hurt her and he may never forgive himself. Her forgiveness doesn't matter, when it comes right down to it.

After a moment, she pulls back, face flushed. Her eyes are desperate, searching.

"I'm divorcing Peter."

The words hang there for a long while.

"I am," she reaffirms, more decided by the second. "This is it. I'm done. Zach and Grace are old enough to understand, they are, and I want to be with you. If you," she gasps, pulling back even more. The lost inches make something in him whine. "If you still want to be with me?"

The words are out faster than he can help himself. It's almost embarrassing. "I want this, Alicia."

He holds her chin in his hand. "I've wanted this ever since Georgetown."

She loses focus, eyes clouding. Her breathing hitches.

Will wants to shoot himself in the foot.

He waits for her to say something. He waits, and finally-

"I don't regret my children," she says with certainty. He goes to speak but she puts a finger to his lips. "But I wanted it too," she confesses softly. "I did, and I was afraid then too."

"But not anymore?"

Alicia nearly, nearly laughs at her own thought. "I'm getting too old. We're getting too old."

"The way you talk, I'm going to need diapers soon."

They burst into a mad fit of giggles together, and Alicia leans into him, her nose pressed up against his. She kisses the tip of it wordlessly. The moment drifts, something serious rolling into in her expression.

"Will."

"Yes?"

"I love you."

These are the words that seal them, like promises and pinky bets. These are the words that have been waiting to be said. Will hears them and ever dark place in his soul is snuffed out, painted bright white. Like lights filling his chest. He could burst into song, but it might be too dramatic. Might.

Alicia is trying to let the timbre of her voice resonate. "I tried to not love you, and it didn't work. So," she continues on, lighter, "maybe we should try something different, for a change?"

He kisses her again, and this time it's different. The way he holds her is like he's afraid she's going to disappear, afraid and desperate and need. He's kissing her and all she can do is cling, something loose and flying in her chest. "I love you too," he says against her mouth. "I love you too."

He wants to tell her unimaginable things.

How he wants to grow old with her. How he wants to spend every morning for the next forty or fifty years waking up next to her. How he wants to tell her he loves her each and every one of those evenings, before they go to sleep. He wants to fit into her life like he's always imagined. He wants them to get through it together. He's wanted it so bad for so long that it's like a gulp of fresh air in a coffin, six feet under. He'd thought it was all dead and buried. He'd thought they'd be stuck in some stasis and anger and hatred, and now all he can see is Alicia and her green, green eyes.

He thinks about telling her these things, but he doesn't.

They've got the rest of their lives, anyway.


End file.
